Dust and Shadow
by AngeloftheOdd
Summary: In this cold, mechanical city, it's easy to forget.
1. Introduction

Title: Dust and Shadow

Summary: A story from Zongi's POV

Rating: T

**Dust and Shadow by Angel of the Odd**

"Pulvis et umbra sumus"-Horace, Odes, IV ("We are but dust and shadow")

Introduction:

In this cold, mechanical city, it's easy to forget. The stench of human bodies crowded together in cramped spaces. The sour stench of disease from the infirmaries. The fetid rank of cheap alcohol and cheaper sex in the tavern. These are the scents that permeate Zaibach.

This is a kingdom of outcasts, of lost souls. Broken and bleeding, we came to seek refuge. A place where we could pick up the shattered pieces of our past and move towards the dawn of a glorious new future. Or so we believed. Perhaps, we needed to cling to something, anything, even if in our hearts we knew it was a false ideal. We were desperate to stop the painful flow of memories and, in this cold, mechanical city it's easy to forget.


	2. Chapter 1

Part I:

I was born into my tribe during a time of peace. Despite the myriad rumors which enshroud us, my people are not the blood-thirsty monsters our enemies have painted us. For many years, we Doppelgangers lived in relative obscurity. We had no need to intermingle with the humans of the surrounding villages, nor did we have many dealings with the clans of beast-people. The tribe was a close-knit community entrenched in the customs of old and led by the eldest of our kind. We were taught in the ways of the warrior, each conquest and victory forever etched on our skin in red ink. In my youth, I endured many tests that often pushed my body and mind to the point of breaking but I returned stronger and with humility. I practiced fighting with my peers, using whatever means were necessary to win, and I became skilled in combat. I learned to stalk and hunt prey, melding with the shadows, in order to sustain nourishment and I excelled in stealth. For a People who had always lived in the wild areas where others feared to dwell, these were important lessons of survival.

When I came of age, the Elder took me aside and revealed to me our clan's greatest power: the ability to draw the energy of another living being into us in order to take on its form. This gift, he told me, was our greatest asset in times of conflict. While we had not been to war in many decades, this power had saved our clan from extinction. The small villages were expanding into great kingdoms and the humans were declaring themselves the superior species. The forests and valleys were steadily being devoured in this new quest for domination.

It was during the Great Massacre when we were first approached. Tensions between the humans and the beast-men of the forest had erupted into a violent bloodbath. Those who were not killed had been taken prisoner to be used as slaves. The leader of the Cat Tribe had come to us seeking our aide. He spoke bravely about reclaiming the land that was being savaged, but the anguish and fear in his eyes spoke the truth: that this battle was already over and the humans had come out the victors. Perhaps there was some pity that the Elder felt when he agreed to this request. Perhaps it was pride, the belief that our people were unconquerable warriors. It was this decision, however, that forever altered the destiny of the Doppelgangers.

The exilheration in the taking of the first human life both scared and excited me. While I was never one predisposed to anger or violence, the first twist of the knife filled me with a mixture of power and purpose. It was easy to think of the plight of the beast men and loathe these fragile looking creatures who needed to hide behind armor and strange weapons in order to fight. The sight and smell of their blood. The bodies slumping to the ground like pathetic rag dolls. The hatred in their eyes as their soul escaped them. It became easy to think of them as little more than prey.

A dozen soldiers had fallen by my own hand, many more at the hands of my comrades and the Cat Men, but we had underestimated the humans. There was a great plume of smoke and the earth trembled below my feet. They had called upon their strongest defense, the great guymelefs, and they were terrifying to behold. The beast men were being crushed like ants beneath their mighty feet, steel and flesh and bone colliding in a sickening crunch. But the Doppelgangers were warriors and we would not submit to even this cruel display. It was then we began using our power.

The first victim I killed in this manner was a young soldier, barely out of his teenage years. It was in that moment, as his life energy slowly became my own, that I learned true fear. I was no longer myself. His alien body was akward, its senses dulled. My hands clumsily fumbled to grasp the sword which had been dropped to the ground during his final struggle. I tried to focus and was hit with a sudden wave of nausea. Memories that were not my own began to flood. A woman was crying, begging for me not to join the rabble on the battle field. Alex. She had called him Alex. This man, whose life I had so easily taken, had a name. He had someone anxiously awaiting his return home. He would never arrive. It was all I could do not to vomit.

I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. The sudden touch jolted me back to reality. I saw a middle-aged man looking down at me with great pity.

"Come, Alex," he said. "The first real combat can be trying for a soldier but you're going to get yourself killed just sitting there hunched over like that."

He patted my back and we locked eyes. Did he see my terror? Did he know my secret; that his comrade was nothing more than a broken shell lying somewhere amoung the piling bodies and that I was just a stranger in his skin? I turned away from him, and fled like a coward.

I ran, with no sense nor care of direction. The heavy armor felt like a suffocating, steel cocoon and I shed it in my flight. I could feel my body, slowly, changing back to its familiar form and I was grateful for it. I collapsed to the ground, my head still reeling from the terrible experience. I was trembling, I was cold, and I was ashamed. What would the others say of me? I was a disgrace to my people. Doppelganges are warriors, and here I was, scared shitless by my first transformation! If I returned home, would they even welcome me back? I lay with my cheek pressed against the cool ground, and, for the first time, lamented my fate. I was too bitter even for tears and I prayed for the darkness to take me, to swallow me whole, until I lost all consciousness.

I was roused first by the unfamiliar voices. I sought vainly to make sense of what was going on. It felt as though the grass beneath me was moving. I could taste the metallic tang of my own blood upon my lips and the cold heaviness of something weighing me down. I tried to move but found my limbs rendered useless.

"Stop struggling!" a gruff voice commanded, and I received a sharp blow to the face.

"Hey, don't damage him too much," said another. "We need these vermin in one piece, ya know."

"I still don't understand our General. What makes him think these things are going to comply with him anyways? Better to kill 'em all now while we have the chance."

"Well, I ain't one to disobey orders. At least we're getting paid good for rounding the scum up."

I was being dragged to the village belonging to the men we had fought. I had been chained like an animal and now I was at their mercy. There was no point in attempting to break free, the bonds were too tight, and I didn't feel like becoming the nastier man's personal punching bag. My mind was still trying to process their words. I was just one of many of the Deceptants they had captured. Had my brethren fallen so easily? I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. If I was to be captured by these barbarians, it should have been a terrific amount of force on their part. I should have fought them with every ounce of strength in my body. Instead, they had easily bound me while I was alone and asleep like the pathetic coward I was. Perhaps, I thought, this fate was deserving of me. How they had managed to restrain the others was what I found troubling.

As we approached the village, it became clear what had happened to the majority of my people. In the midst of a gathering crowd, was a large bonfire, a funeral pyre fueled by the bodies of the dead. How with our power had the humans managed to slay so many? I was granted a closer look at the smoldering pile and the answer came. While many of the dead were Doppelgangers, some bore the blue tattoos of a different clan. We had not been fighting only the human men, but the Northern tribe of Deceptants in disguise. Our Elder had spoken of them fleetingly, calling them our cousins. Why would they have betrayed their kin in such a manner?

The smoke stung my eyes and the stench of the burning flesh caused me to gag. I could see a woman in the throng, sobbing and immedietly recognized her. She was mourning the loss of her brother. Alex. I closed my eyes and wished my body was among those of my dead kinsmen, returning to ash and dust.


	3. Chapter 2

Part II:

The Doppelgangers had become slaves to the humans. We were beat daily, starved, and were subjected to the jeers and taunting of our captors. They kept us alive for the sole purpose of using us to fight for them in their next grand battle. They would tell those who even cared to question about the presence of the Northern tribe in the last battle, that we were hired mercenaries. The other nations believed it and rumors of Doppelganger ferocity in battle became exaggerated as they passed from kingdom to kingdom. No one suspected the truth; that our once proud tribe had become the pawns of even prouder humans. We were kept well hidden in our dungeons. No one questioned our sudden departure from our homeland, for we had kept ourselves well hidden there for centuries.

Our community, if it could be called as such, banded together even closer. We began to despise not just our human wardens, but all humans in general. We looked forward to spilling their blood, we looked forward to the impending war. We trained for hours on end, until our strength left us and we collapsed from exhaustion. Our Elder was among the survivors and he tried desperately to give us faith in something. He bore the burden of our entire plight on his shoulders until he became a shadow of what he once was. He forgot about the sun, and about warmth. He could no longer recall the rituals of peace and prosperity we once practiced. He believed the gods had forsaken us, and we, in turn, believed him, as we always had. His words were all we had left.

"We are warriors," he would tell us. "We live in battle and we die in battle. This is the fate of our cursed clan."

I wanted desperately to prove myself to him. I had visions of myself on the battlefield, running into the fray with sword held high amid a volley of cannon fire. I would redeem myself by slaughtering all in my path until I was struck down in a final blaze of glory. I would die a warrior's death.

No one knew about my means of capture, save for a slightly older Doppelganger whom I had befriended. I had confessed to him my secret one night as we sat in the darkness, while the others slept. Much to my surprise, instead of reprimanding me for my foolishness, he spoke gently.

"You are young, Zongi," he said. "and the first transformation is always hard. It is a pity that the first life force you took was that of a human. Lesser forms were all we used to ever take. Simple creatures, like a butterfly or sparrow, were sufficient disguises in the past. Their memories are not wrought with sorrow or fear."

He told me stories of our greatest warriors and how they had all struggled on their paths. Sometimes, he would sing fragments of songs I vaguely remembered from my childhood but had long forgotten the words to. He would laugh and tell tales of his exploits, like the time he had taken the form of a mouse in order to spy on a young maid he fancied. When she discovered him, he said, she nearly beat him senseless with her broom and he was forced to flee. Whether his stories were embellished or completely fabricated, I cared little, and I hung onto his every word, wide-eyed like a child. He called me Zongi the Great many times in jest, but mostly, he called me Brother, and I addressed him in the same.

We lived thus, for months, though it often felt like years, until we were finally called upon by the General. A conflict had erupted between the country and the neighboring one and we were the reserves. I suppose we could have escaped the moment they let us loose on the unsuspecting armies, but through madness or fear, we stayed.

The rush of wind on my face reminded me of how long I had been a captive and my anger grew afresh. There was no thrill in killing, only a red blur of rage. I felt no emotion when I took life after life. The memories of those whose forms I stole matched my own in sheer blind hatred. If this was what it truly felt like to be alive, then I was happy to die then and there, as long as I took as many of them as I could with me. One large soldier came charging at me and we engaged in an impressive display of swords, until, finally, I thrust my blade through his chest.

My smile of triumph quickly faded as the body below me twitched and the face faded back to that of my only friend. My brother. I sank to my knees and openly wept upon his still form. Zongi the Great. Zongi the Coward. Brother killing brother. One of the last of a dying race. This was the fate of war, not of the warrior. A warrior is strong, not just in body, but in conviction. I was not going to die there fighting for a cause I had no inkling of, let alone believed in. Hatred had cost me the only person I had every truly cared about. If I was going to sacrifice my life, it would be for love.


	4. Chapter 3

Part III:

I kept to the hidden paths of the woodlands, always moving by night. I did not know what had become of the others, but if they had not been killed during the past conflict, they would likely perish in the next. Or the one after that. I felt like the last of my kind. Perhaps I was. It didn't matter to me anymore. My world was changing, and I had to change with it. After all, wasn't that what we Doppelgangers were best at?

I kept myself alive by feeding on whatever I could find on my journey. I stole sometimes from the caravans of the beast men who seemed themselves constantly on the move. I was able to clothe myself in a tattered robe I snagged from them one night. It wasn't much but it was something to protect me from the elements.

The wild lands of Gaia seemed to grow smaller the closer I came to civilization. Great machines were devouring the earth in great chunks, the power of the rivers harnessed and contained to suit the needs of man. It would be easy to hate them, but in truth, I regarded them now with a mixture of fear and curiosity. I could have taken the shape of one of the men and, for a time, lived among them, but it would not be true acceptance. I was a monster in their eyes. I doubted that there was any place on all of Gaia that would welcome me in as one of their own.

There were times when I cried until my eyes were dry and dull. I replayed the stories my brother had told me over and over again in my mind. All heroes had to overcome great trials. Perhaps mine was conquering the seemingly unending solitude and emptiness I felt. The most vicious monsters are always created in ones own mind. I was physically free and yet I felt more confined and trapped than ever I had during those long months held prisoner. I had no home and no identity. I was nothing but a shadow.

The nights were growing colder with the changing of the season, and I knew that if I was to survive, I would eventually have to seek refuge somewhere. I was nearing a large city and it was my hope to blend in among the poor and derelict there. Surely, no one would take heed of one more displaced soul wandering their streets in seek of shelter. I made sure to keep the hood of my robe lowered over my face and I walked with my head down.

There was a shabby looking tavern that seemed to be the only source of light and life at the hour I first ventured into civilization. I sat myself down on the cold cobblestone and huddled near the back door. I could hear snippets of conversation emanating from the building, and, much to my dismay, it sounded as if the establishment was getting ready to close down for the night.

The sudden creaking of a door startled me and I huddled down in my rags, hoping not to be noticed. A young woman, looking tired and haggard, emerged from the tavern holding a small can filled with garbage. She went to place it down but jumped back as she caught sight of my hunched figure. I felt frozen to the spot, too terrified to speak or move.

"Goodness, Mister," she said. "You gave me quite a shock!"

She placed the trash bin on the ground and walked over to me. I raised my head just enough to look at her. She was plain looking with lank, mousy hair that was pulled back into a ponytail. A regular village girl with a friendly expression.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Cat got your tongue? What are you doing out here? We stopped serving an hour ago, you know. If you're looking for ale, I'm afraid you're going to have to come back tomorrow."

"I don't have any money," I replied. "I heard voices coming from here. I've traveled a long distance without company. It was just refreshing to be near the presence of people once more."

She regarded me with a weary suspicion and then, her eyes seemed to soften a little.

"You should have timed your arrival a little better if you're looking for work," she said. "But I suppose if you've been traveling on foot, it's understandable. What's your name, stranger?"

"Zongi."

"That's an odd name," she said, musing. "You must really not be from around these parts. I'm Lilah."

She extended her hand out to me with a warm smile and I took it in my own. Her skin felt so warm against my own.

"Goodness," she said, sighing. "You're freezing. Look, it's not our policy to take in transients, especially ones who can't pay, but seeing as how this is your first night in town, I might be able to arrange something with my boss. Come inside, I'll find you somewhere to sleep and get you something to eat. You wouldn't be the first laborer needing some hospitality, and I doubt you'll be the last."

"Thank you," I said.

I was overwhelmed by her kindness and felt a sharp pang of guilt for having deemed all of her race as cold and callous.

"We take care of our own here," she said. "You'll know your way around soon enough and no doubt you'll be a regular name and face."

She led me inside and locked the door behind her.

"Can't be too careful these days," she said. "The damn thieves around here would rob you blind if you gave them half a chance."

"It is true in every town," I replied.

I was hoping desperately that my lack of knowledge of humans and their ways of life would not betray me.

"I suppose it is," she said.

She looked pained, as if she regretted her words.

"Forgive my rudeness, Mister Zongi. I haven't had a proper rest yet. Our community actually prides itself on its safety and the goodness of its people. You seem to have your wits about you and I doubt any ill will shall befall you here. Follow me."

She led me to a small room where the floor was covered in straw. A mop and bucket were propped in the corner.

"It isn't much," Lilah said. "In fact, it's where we usually store our supplies, but seeing as how business has been lately..."

"It's perfect," I interrupted. "Thank you."

"I'll get you a blanket and see what leftovers I can acquire. I'll be right back."

As she walked away, I knew I should feel ashamed for taking advantage of her generosity, but I was so elated to find acceptance so easily that I selfishly pushed it aside.

Lilah returned a few moments later, carrying a platter in one hand and an old tablecloth in the other.

"Sorry, I can't do more," she said.

"You've done more for me tonight than anyone has in a very long time."

Her brown eyes seemed to fill with a mixture of pity and suspicion.

"You ain't no laborer, are you?" she asked.

I felt my heart sink. I was about to be discovered for the fake I was.

"It's okay. I figured you weren't, but it's a good story to tell the boss, ain't it? When I saw you there, I knew exactly what you were."

"You did?" I asked in wide-eyed disbelief.

"Sure I did. Weird name and coming from a long ways away, hiding your face the way you are. Figured right away you were an ex-soldier from one of the wars. My brother was a soldier, you see. Came back disfigured and disgraced. Couldn't make his way in the world because of his injuries. He ended up poor and unable to make a living."

Tears started to run down her face.

"He killed himself. Took his own life with the same sword he had used to serve his country."

Her voice turned suddenly cold and serious.

"You be out of here by morning, all right? If the boss finds out I let a beggar spend the night on our charity I'll have my pay docked for a week. I hope you find a place to stay, but it ain't going to be here. Not in this town."

She shut the door behind her and I was again alone. My dreams were haunted by images of battle. I could see myself, sword in hand, the smell of blood hanging in the air like a fog, the screams of the injured and dying. I awoke in cold sweats, a silent scream on my lips.

Much to my surprise, Lilah was standing over me. The gentle sweetness she had exhibited on her face the night before had vanished. Her eyes were filled with horror, her mouth agape in shock. She dropped the glass of water in her hand that she had been holding, her body trembling violently. Mortified, I realized that my face was no longer hidden.

"Monster," she whispered, backing away.

"No!" I pleaded, moving closer. "Please..."

"Get away from me!" she screamed. "Don't come any closer!"

"Lilah..."

"Monster!" she again hollered. "Someone help!"

There was a loud commotion as several men clamored behind her coming to her aide.

"What the hell is it, Lilah?" a male voice responded. "Did that large rat come back to steal more of our grain?"

A large, bearded man armed with the leg of a bar stool stood at her side.

Lilah shook her head, pointing in my direction.

"Deceptant!" she hollered. "It's come to curse us with more war upon our country!"

"No," I said, feebly. "Please. I don't mean to harm anyone."

"Bastard!" the man hollered, swinging at me with the make-shift club.

The wood splintered over my head and my vision became clouded with the spray of my own blood. A heavy boot connected with my side and I heard my ribs crack beneath it. I was going to die if I didn't fight back somehow. I grabbed my attacker by the shoulders and placed my face as close as I could to his. As his life force drained into me, I could feel my wounds healing. Lilah was hollering as her employer became nothing but a husk in my grasp and I took on his visage. I got to my feet and shoved her harshly from my path, making my escape.


	5. Chapter 4

Part IV:

I had managed to avoid capture by darting into an alleyway and concealing myself. Doubtless the entire area knew of my presence and it would only be a matter of time before I was hunted down. My first attempt at befriending a human had ended in bloodshed and murder. Lilah had shown me compassion but only because she thought me of her own kind. As soon as she had discovered the truth of my identity, her pity had turned to loathing. Perhaps the Elder had been correct, that we were cold-blooded killers suited only for combat. I was not worthy of warm caresses and soft words. I was a vile creature of death and destruction. If this was to be my place in the world, then I would accept it.

I could hear commotion of people shouting and cursing. Word seemed to have traveled fast. Miserably, I stood there, straining to catch any coherent conversation from those who pursued me. Much to my surprise, it seemed like a slightly different matter had caused discontent among the people. A strange visitor. A powerful man regarded with much respect. A sorcerer they had called him. They believed me to be his harbinger.

I could hear one voice above the others. A calm voice. Reasurring.

"A doppelganger? Surely, you must be mistaken. There have been none in these parts for centuries."

"I saw him with my own eyes," another voice responded.

It unmistakably belonged to Lilah.

"You must have sent him! Sorcerers are known to keep company with demons!"

"Strategos, my apologies," came a response from yet another. "This woman clearly had a fright. She did not mean you any disrespect."

I peered from my hiding place and saw a tall, regal man standing beside a coach. I thought it odd that I had somehow missed the sound of horses' hooves. For a moment, I thought I saw him turn to me and smile, but he returned his gaze back to the small man who had been addressing him.

"I take no offense," he said. "As an envoy of Zaibach I came here wishing to extend my Kingdom's friendship. I was hoping to speak with your Prince in order to form an alliance with your beautiful country."

"Why would Zaibach come here to make deals if this is a time of peace?" Lilah said, glowering at the man. "You are not welcome here, Sorcerer!"

She was silenced by a slap across the face from the smaller man.

"That is not your decision and you will stop referring to him in such terms!" he said. "Strategos Folken, again I appologize for this outburst. She's mad!"

"A Colonel has no cause to strike a townswoman regardless of her condition," the man named Folken replied.

He turned to Lilah.

"Tell me girl, are you positive that what you saw was a Deceptant?"

She nodded and the smaller man shook his head in disbelief.

"Then let my first act of good faith be to capture the creature and rid your town of it."

"See how generous the Strategos is," the small man said to Lilah. "He will take time away from important matters to help you."

She still seemed to regard Folken with mistrust but accepted his offer.

"Perhaps your arrival is a blessing after all," she said. "The thing could not have gotten too far."

I shrank back in the shadows, my heart pounding. Had this Strategos Folken really seen me or was I being paranoid? Again, he seemed to look in my direction and I knew that I had been spotted. His gaze seemed to bore through me, but his eyes did not look full of anger or revulsion. They did not even reflect pity. They were full of sadness. I was tired of running away. I didn't want to fight this man who seemed as full of secrets and of sorrow as myself.

"Go and search the docks," Folken commanded Lilah and the Colonel. "I will remain here and look for anyone suspicious. Call for me should you find anything."

The two departed and I could hear Folken whistling softly as he watched their forms melt into the distance. I found the melody soothing, and I half-forgot that this man could be the very cause of my demise. He looked about the area and then nonchalantly began to make his way over to my hiding place. How he had managed to pinpoint my location I could not determine, but he found me nonetheless. Maybe he really was some kind of sorcerer.

"Are you a Doppelganger?" he asked in a low tone.

It must have appeared to others that he was merely peering down the darkened alley that hid me. I felt the human form I had assumed disappear and stood before him as I truly was.

"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I want to help you."

I had transformed in front of him and still he stood talking to me without any inclination of fright or surprise.

"Can you take the shape of anything you desire?"

"The life form whose image I take must die," I answered. "I cannot change at will."

"Surely this town would not miss any vermin scurrying about," he said, gesturing behind me.

I had not even given thought to the rats which ran freely about the town. It was so simple I felt stupid for not having thought of it sooner myself. He watched the process of my shifting into one of the unfortunate rodents with fascination and allowed me to crawl into the sleeve of his black cape to safety. He bent down and picked up the dried carcass of the rat and returned to his coach to await the return of Lilah and her companion. He resumed his whistling and did not stop until I could hear the voices of the others approaching.

"Just like I said, Strategos. I could find nothing to support her story. What a waste of time!"

"Actually," Folken said. "It appears that the young lady is telling the truth. I found this. It does look like the work of a Doppelganger, doesn't it?"

I heard Lilah shriek.

"Unfortunately if he took the shape of a rat, it is likely that he is gone and won't be found," Folken continued. "He probably escaped into the sewers. I doubt he will return."

"Probably grateful to get away with his life!" the Colonel's voice laughed. "What did I tell you, Lilah, those demons never stay in one place for too long. I heard that they were nearly extinct, anyways. You won't have the misfortune of running into another one in your lifetime. Consider it a story to tell the Grand Kids one day."

"Go home and rest," Folken said. "No doubt what you have seen was terrifying, but the Colonel is right. I would not concern yourself with irrational fears."

His words must have pacified her for I heard her speak no more.

"A bit of excitement from a boring political visit, hmm, Strategos?" the Colonel said.

"I have much to discuss with the Prince and his council," Folken replied. "Clearly the other Provinces are expanding their territories far too quickly if such strange species are making their way into this realm."

I was putting all my faith in this strange man. It would have been too easy for him to reveal my presence at any time during his dealings with the council but he did not. Apparently, he did not view me a threat to himself or the others he spoke with. He talked mainly of his own Kingdom, Zaibach, and how advanced the technology of his people were. He wanted to help the other Kingdoms and bring about an end to the ceaseless battles for land and resources. As I listened, I could not help but admire his views. Zaibach must be a wondrous place with a great ruler. Unlike the other countries, Zaibach was willing to offer aide to her neighbors to better the lives of all. How could these people not help but be touched by Folken's words? In the end, however, the Prince seemed bored and Folken was politely dismissed with the promise of having his ideas considered.

We departed in his coach and moved with amazing speed. I wondered if he was at the reigns himself, for I did not remember seeing any driver. The sound of the steeds that must be carrying us along the roadways was still strangely absent.

"This coach drives itself," Folken said, as if reading my thoughts. "It is a great example of our scientific achievements. There is a fortress above us, hidden in the sky. Soon we will board and we can talk further."

I could make little sense of his words. A floating fortress and driver-less coach seemed like the ramblings of a madman, except, coming from Folken, I knew it must be true.

"You will come to understand, in time, friend," he said with a small chuckle. "What an odd being you must take me for."


	6. Chapter 5

Part V:

How we came to be upon the Floating Fortress was a mystery beyond my comprehension. Not once did it feel like we had levitated or flown, but we must have by some means. We seemed alone when he bid me to leave his person and resume my natural shape.

"Amazing," he said, as I stood before him. "I have heard legends of the Doppelgangers' power, but to see it in action is remarkable. Your people must be blessed by the gods for being granted such a gift."

"Gift." Yes that is what the Elder had called it so long ago. Long before he believed us to be cursed. I broke down sobbing, crumpling to the ground at Folken's feet.

"Tell me, friend," he said, laying his hand on my head. "What is your name."

"Zongi," I replied. My voice was hoarse with raw emotion.

"Zongi," he repeated. "How did you come to be in such a sad situation?"

I told him of my clan and the war between the humans and the beast people, of our imprisonment and the words of the Elder and my brother. Between great sobs I reiterated the tale of how I came to be a murderer of one of my own and of the tavern keeper in the village. I spoke of Layla and how I had dared to hope that she might have viewed me as an equal in her society. I wept at his feet like a child.

"Zongi," he said. "I see such gentleness in you, but I see also the eyes of one who has suffered unimaginable pain. Do you wish to break free of the binds of your people? Do you curse your fate?"

"Lord Folken!" I cried, grasping hold of his great black robe.

Tears streamed freely down my face. This was not a man, but an angel, a heavenly being sent to rescue me from my accursed destiny.

"I will follow you. I will live to serve only you."

"Poor creature," he whispered, taking me into his embrace. "I do not ask such a thing. I only ask that you believe in me. That you will help me to build a better world. One without sorrow."

I nodded dumbly. "I am honored that you would entrust your noble cause to me.You are the first to look upon me without fear, Lord Folken."

"You are a child of the Zaibach Empire now," he said. "You cannot be anything but beautiful in my eyes."

"Zaibach," I whispered. "Is that where we are headed?"

"Yes. She is beautiful to look upon from the sky. Come, I will show you her splendor."

I followed him to a small window and we looked out onto the horizon.

"Those green lights in the distance are the beacon that will always lead you home, Zongi," Folken said. "That is Zaibach, Mother of Outcasts. Once, many years ago, I too was lost and alone, just as you were. I had lost all faith, all hope of ever returning to the life I had once led. I found refuge in her arms and was reborn."

"I do not understand, Lord Folken," I said, looking up at him. "You are human. You are a great man filled with compassion and wisdom."

He smiled sadly and turned his back to me. He shed his cloak and two great black wings sprouted from his back.

"I was once destined to rule a land called Fanalia," he said. "I am a Draconian, one of the last few of my kind. It was our custom for the future king to slay a dragon in order to prove his worth as a leader. Such a silly ideal. Killing beasts only shows ones cowardice and contempt over nature. When I confronted the dragon, I saw in his eyes all the beastialness in myself and mankind. I could not bring myself to hurt a creature of such age and wisdom."

He turned to me and I saw that in place of his right arm there was a strange metallic claw.

"He took my arm for my arrogance and pride. You see, I did not understand it at the time, but he could have easily rendered me to pieces. He was a far superior being than I credited him and I had shown him pity instead of the respect he deserved. Since then, I have treated all of this world's creations with the veneration they are due."

He wrapped his cloak back around his shoulders and I stared at him in awe.

"You have faced dragons of a different sort," he said. "And while your wounds may not be seen by eyes, we are really not so different, you and I."

I looked into his eyes and there I found my purpose.


	7. Epilogue

Epilogue:

There is hatred here in Zaibach. There is deceit and there is loneliness. The city is cold and seems an unnatural construct on the face of Gaia's green earth. She is a false mother who offers false hopes. Her citizens are more refugees than inhabitants and the sickly glow of her green light blocks out the rays of the stars and moons. We drown our sorrows in self-delusion and crawl towards an uncertain future. But here, it is easy to forget.

I spend my hours at Folken's side. Watching. Waiting. He believes we are closer than ever to achieving our ultimate goal. I know that we are farther than ever from true peace and happiness, but to tell him would be to cause him sorrow. I can only offer my words of encouragement and of loyalty, but he does not understand that my loyalty is to him and not the deluded vision he holds so dear. There is but one truth I keep alive in my heart. The promise I made to sacrifice all for love. My love for a black-winged angel.

Author's Notes:

Yay, I completed my first fanficiton! I hope it was a worthy contribution to the Escaflowne fandom. Zongi has always been one of my favourite characters in the series and he is so often portrayed in an unfavourable light. I found it a shame that his history and the Doppelgangers themselves were never touched upon very much in the story of Escaflowne. He seemed like a tragic figure and I always found the desperation in his voice during his flashback when first meeting Folken to be heart-wrenching. I also wanted to bring a bit more attention to the racism towards the beast-people and the destruction of nature that was hinted at in the series. As for Zongi proclaiming his love for Folken at the end of my story, I view it more of a spiritual love than sexual. After all, Zongi is an androgynous being and Folken seems very much a saintly figure. All comments, negative and positive are welcomed.


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